The Hippopotamus Marsh Read Free Page B

composure. No strain showed on her face or was betrayed in any hesitancy of her gestures. At once Khian and his soldiers stood, bowed, and followed the steward. Si-Amun flung an arm around Aahmes-nefertari’s neck.
    “He is more like a farmer than a herald,” he remarked. “Although he would find hoeing weeds a chore without anymuscles. Why does the King send us such an inferior creature? Surely we are worthy of a Chief Herald’s attention at least! What does he want of us?”
    Seqenenra knew that his son was half-joking but beneath the bantering tone was a hint of affront. You have too much of the wrong kind of pride, Si-Amun, he thought to himself. I wish that you did not take offence so easily over the petty insults that cannot threaten either your manhood or your noble blood unless you let them. “He has brought another letter from Apepa,” he said. “I have not read it yet. I want to do so on a full stomach.” Kamose came close to his father.
    “Always letters, always stupid, niggling demands,” he said in a low voice. “Last time it was an order to grow more barley than flax when the barley crop already promised to be abundant, and then there was a request for the numbers of pairs of sandals in our household. What stupid game is the King playing?”
    Seqenenra gazed at the placid surface of the pool. The fish were making peaceful circles that spread and broke against the stone surround. Long shadows were growing across the sunset-tinged grass. The servants were rolling up the reed mats and gathering the debris of the greeting-meal. “I don’t know and it doesn’t matter,” he answered at length. “We do as we are told and in exchange for our obedience we may order our nomes and our lives as Amun desires. Many are not so fortunate.” Kamose grimaced, and scrambling up he walked away.
    “I could go and talk to the herald, Father,” Si-Amun offered. “I might be able to glean some useful information from him.”
    “I forbid you to do so,” Seqenenra said sharply. “A herald is a messenger, nothing more. He is not required to advise his master or give any opinions and it should be beneath your dignity, Si-Amun, to accord this Khian any more respect than the laws of hospitality require. Moreover, he is the servant of a King who wishes us ill. Remember that and take care how you address him.” Si-Amun flushed.
    “Forgive me,” he said. “You are right. But it is very hard to know myself the child of Kings and yet be forced to curb my tongue in the presence of a mere herald.” He rocked forward onto his knees and then stood, pulling his wife with him. “There will be no feast for a while yet,” he finished. “Walk with me by the river, Aahmes-nefertari.”
    Seqenenra watched them disappear into the growing dusk. Si-Amun was nineteen, a few moments older than Kamose and therefore Seqenenra’s heir. Physically he was his brother’s double and they could hardly be told apart from each other except for the small mole at the corner of Si-Amun’s mouth, but their personalities were dissimilar. Si-Amun’s self-confidence bordered on arrogance. He was a clever scholar, a good marksman with the bow, but chafed at his existence in this provincial backwater. He wanted to go north, to wait upon the King, to be where the power in Egypt resided, and Seqenenra could only hope that as he grew his arrogance would become a Princely competence and his restlessness would be channelled into the exercise of a proper authority.
    But Kamose seemed to have inherited an aura of serenity from his mother. He had all the quiet self-confidence of a man twice his age, and was secure enough in his own maturity to mind his own business. At sixteen, Ahmose,the youngest son, was a flame, a darting, vigorous, happy man proficient with his weapons, a fine wrestler who asked little more of life than that it should continue unchanged under the blessings of the gods.
    I have everything a man could desire, Seqenenra reflected. I am